An Inconveniently Presented Truth

Topic (?): An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore

Of course, there have been mixed feelings about watching this film, both because I have never been much of a fan of Al Gore, and because I have never been a fan of global warming. There has been so much evidence contradicting the data Al Gore presents for global warming that I found it hard to take him seriously. I tried not to be too condescending while watching this film, and I tried to keep an open mind while listening. It was difficult, though, not to see through his appeals to emotion to distract from the missing data. The concept he seems not to be grasping is the idea that not everything lasts forever. Glaciers move and melt. It just happens. It upset me that he took such a roundabout and essentially wrong way to present his misleading data, providing no solutions. He accuses without providing real solutions for the problem. Yes, the carbon levels went up with the rapidly increasing population of earth. What, then, is the remedy? To limit the amount of children we have? To kill off a couple thousand? WHile the issues he brings up are correct in the sense that they're supposed to make us aware of how we treat our environment, his presentation of them makes any skeptic cringe.

He has a point, though. It's true, we ought to be taking care of our world. God gave man dominion over the world and everything in it, and we should honor that. Gore, however, gives very few solutions (you'll hear me say this a couple of times, because it really bugged me). He requests that we change our entire lifestyle. An admirable cause, but, in short, a little unrealistic. Anyone who bothered to study psychology as I was forced to last semester would know to ask for one step at a time, to begin small in order to achieve a greater goal.

How in the world am I to explain this? I admire the passion to change the world, but surely a man as smart as Al Gore ought to realize that requiring the world to change simply because of a few cleverly unlabeled graphs and a story about his sister who smoked and died of lung cancer isn't going to succeed. The goal is to make us aware of the fact that we do, indeed, leave our mark on the environment. But what Al Gore does not answer is how we're supposed to go about doing this in our daily lives in a society which does not take the environment into account while creating their products. Gore seems to point the finger at the government and America as the ones to blame, a classically Bulveristic approach. Instead of coming up with a plan to start small and accumulate momentum, he seems content to politely express his disappointment with the Bush administration for not taking his values as seriously as he does. He also seems to think (rather naively, I think) that if only he were in control, America would simply . . . change. Perhaps if he had been elected, he would be surprised by American resistance to change.

An admirable cause. A sloppy presentation. Inaccuracy pointing correctly. This is An Inconvenient Truth at its best.

Necessary Pains

Reading: The Problem of Pain (ch6: Human Pain), C. S. Lewis

The essence of 'Human Pain' is the idea that pain is God's way of hitting us over the head. No one really likes pain; it's uncomfortable, it hurts. Lewis does not make any objections, either: "I am not arguing that pain is not painful. Pain hurts. That is what the word means," he writes bluntly. There is nothing hidden in his meaning.

The idea, though, is that pain separates us from whatever hinders our relationship with God. Whatever gets in the way, whatever we place before or alongside God, He takes away, causing us pain. In the life of the believer, pain comes from having to put down our pride, from letting the other have the satisfaction of winning, from putting up with that old woman's unpleasant ramblings no matter how insulting they are to you. It hurts, it causes discomfort and pain, but with each stabbing pain we are one step closer to God. He is pruning the vine, snipping off each unhealthy obsession, each diseased virtue, so that we might be strong and healthy.

For the unbeliever, the consequences seem more harsh. The pain they must endure before they come to realize that the Lord is trying to get their attention is usually far greater. Many times it's difficult for us to see such horrendous things happening to sweet, kind, gentle people, and still call God loving and merciful. It will be even more difficult for one who is going through it to realize that God is causing them so much heartache because He wants to help them. To them it seems, as Lewis put it, paradoxical; it seems completely contradictory. But pain is God's tool used to get our attention as quickly as possible.

It's simple, though. How willing would you be to give up everything for the Lord if you already had everything? I wouldn't be very willing at all. I'd sit on my throne and look down my nose at God and ask Him what He could do for me. But God, in His mighty mercy, makes it much simpler for us. Instead of giving us nothing and making us stare up at him in a pathetic desire to be pitied or giving us everything and waiting around for us to acknowledge Him, He gives us a generous amount, considering what we deserve, and when we forget Him, He takes away whatever most hinders us from Him. One by one, until the breaking point. Some get it right away. Others' breaking points are further along the road. For some it takes total devastation before they are willing to accept God's infinitely better gift. Once the gift has been opened, it is easy to see that the pain it took before you accepted was only brought about by your own stubbornness, but worth it. I'd fight for lifetimes to earn this unearnable gift. It's a gift that's easy to receive when you can't see anyone else offering anything better. It's also easy to give up everything for the Lord when you have nothing.

Now, to some, this may sound cruel. God takes everything away just so He can extend a helping hand? It's like a god-sized bully who knocks you down just so he can help you back up.

That, thank God, is completely against His character. He gave us free will. It's our decision. We could turn to Him before He even has to take something away. But we, being so utterly full of ourselves, know that's never the case. Thus, pain.

It still hurts. But it's the same kind of deep ache that comes after a brutal work out, the same kind of stinging that warns you that something must be fixed. Behind every pain is healing, and healing comes from the Lord.

A Rabbity Sort of Fellow

Reading: Man or Rabbit?, C. S. Lewis

Upon reading this, I at once felt guilty and somewhat peeved, because, as usual, Lewis has successfully put into words that which I struggled and stuttered over when trying to speak to my friend about Christianity. What I was attempting so poorly to make him understand was precisely the same point Lewis makes: one cannot live a good life without Christianity.

The problem, Lewis says, is not necessarily that Christianity will automatically make a person good. Evidently the question, 'can a man lead a good life without believing in Christianity?' leads to the question, 'can I?' and that further still to, 'need I bother about it? Mayn't I just evade the issue, just let sleeping dogs lie?' Lewis is rather pointedly clear about his response: "The man is shirking. He is deliberately trying not to know whether Christianity is true or false, because he foresees endless trouble if it should turn out to be true." Perhaps the most frustrating part of talking to this friend of mine is that very statement. He has no desire to find out whether Christianity is true or not; "I'm happy where I am," he tells me, much to my frustration (after all, just moments before he was complaining to me about just how unhappy he was).

He is in danger, though, according to Lewis. He has heard, he has asked the question, and he is ignoring the answer. "Honest rejection of Christ, however mistaken, will be forgiven and healed," writes Lewis. "But to evade the Son of Man, to look the other way, to pretend you haven't noticed . . . to leave unopened certain letters in a strange handwriting because they might be from Him--this is a different matter." Rejection of Christ is intolerable, inhuman. To me, personally, it is heartbreakingly appalling that one would so easily reject such a beautiful, glorious gift simply because it would mean they were wrong. Even Lewis states, "You may not be certain yet whether you ought to be a Christian; but you do know you ought to be a Man, not an ostrich, hiding its head in the sand." The contempt of Lewis is scalding; he holds no patience for such a man.

The beauty of Christianity is that either it works, or it doesn't. If it works, "the secret of the universe is waiting for you." Everything makes sense in the context of Christianity; there is purpose, there is meaning; everything is both valuable and beautiful. If it does not work, then it is the greatest sham on earth, powerful enough to deceive even the best of men. In either case, living a good life is no longer important; the goals have changed. If it is true, it must be shared. If it is not, it must be exposed. Any Christian, then, believes it is true.

But Christianity, as you may have heard, is no picnic. It is not denied, of course, that "Christianity will do you good," but the catch is that it is not necessarily the happy-go-lucky-I'll-win-the-lottery-today kind of good that people seem to be looking for. I imagine Lewis must have been rather frustrated with the blindness of these fellows asking this question, because his response is rather blunt: "And the first bit of good it will do you is to hammer into your head (you won't enjoy that!) the fact that . . . you can't be 'good' (not for twenty-four hours) on our own moral efforts." Farther on, (Oh! How I wish I were as eloquent a Lewis!) he writes that as we have been given Divine Life, it is required that our rabbit-like morality is to be swallowed up; "We are to be re-made." The pain of such is almost unbearable, but healthy, like the pain of lifting and carrying a large amount of weight, or the pain that comes while healing occurs. It is almost impossible to bear, the wait seems too long. But although "we shall bleed and squeal as the handfuls of fur come out," it is the final goal we look forward to. "And then, surprisingly, we shall find underneath it all a thing we have never yet imagined: a real Man, an ageless god, a son of God, strong, radiant, wise, beautiful, and drenched in joy."

Now I ask you: What person in their right mind would reject such a promise?

"Morality is a mountain which we cannot climb by our own efforts; and if we could, we should only perish in the ice and unbreathable air of the summit, lacking those wings with which the rest of the journey has to be accomplished. For it is from there that the real ascent begins. The ropes and axes are 'done away' . . .

And the rest is a matter of flying."

Dangers and Exceptions of the Inner Ring

Reading: The Inner Ring, C. S. Lewis

Perhaps badly introduced, Lewis' essay on Inner Rings is, as always, a rather insightful look at the unwritten hierarchies of human society. Human beings have an incurable desire to belong somehow, somewhere. It's simply how we are. Whether it is in a high school clique or a specific club, we are constantly looking to be accepted. While Lewis has addressed this feeling, this desire to be accepted, in this essay he focuses more on the danger of the Inner Ring itself.

First, there's the idea of the Inner Ring itself. We desire so much to be a part of a particular group that we don't consider the costs of being in such a group. The criteria begins at a low point, then begins to rise and rise, until wither one notices and withdraws (an unlikely result), or one hits a breaking point (the much more likely result): "And then, if you are drawn in, next week it will be something a little further from the rules, and next year something further still . . . it may end in a crash, a scandal, a penal servitude; it may end in millions, a peerage and giving the prizes at your old school. But you will be a scoundrel." One gets sucked into such a group, and everything is required of him.

But, once one has gained entrance into the Inner Ring, it becomes a different group entirely. Nothing, really, has been achieved, and nothing really satisfies that longing to belong. And so, instead of recognizing that nothing will change, we take power and pride onto ourselves and claim that, because we have fought so bravely and persevered for so long and finally achieved the Inner Ring, we now hold the authority to judge whether others might join. "Exclusion is no accident; it is the essence," writes Lewis; the Ring has now instead of being merely a group with criteria to your group with your criteria. Because it was so very difficult for you, you feel it ought to be just as difficult for everyone, anyone else.

How dangerous! What pride! It is a frightening thought that we think so highly of ourselves. It's easy to blame everyone else, of course. "Judge not, lest ye be judged," has been reversed; it becomes, "I have been judged; therefore, let me judge."

We must take care, then. "The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it." And yet, there is an interesting result and a clarification that follows. "If in you working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters." Lose yourself in your work with no intentions but to finish your work to the best of your ability, without attempting to please anyone, or to get ahead, and it will be respected. "And if in your spare time you consort simply with the people you like, you will find again that you have come unawares to a real inside." This, however, is different than a usual Inner Ring, although it appears like one; "The secrecy is accidental, and its exclusiveness a by-product, and no one was led tither by the lure of the esoteric." In order to drive his point home, Lewis puts it into even simpler terms: "This is friendship . . . it causes perhaps half of all the happiness in the world, and no Inner Ring can ever have it."

Vocation, Location, No Matter

Reading: Engaging God's World (ch.5: Vocation in the Kingdom of God), Plantinga

Plantinga's last chapter on vocation and the Kingdom of God seems like a somewhat painful flashback to our Prelude course at the beginning of last semester, except with more enthusiasm and much more willingness to condemn than the author of the Prelude packet (were they the same?). Perhaps I have no right to judge what he writes in return, but unfortunately, this blog demands my thoughts, not a cookie-cutter, noncommittal answer.

Plantinga makes a distinction between a "good"citizen of the Kingdom of God and a "prime"citizen. Before anything else is said, Plantinga is already grouping the citizens of God by a scale of passion. If we are not passionate about bringing about God's Kingdom, then we are not prime citizens at all, but neither are we simply good citizens either. Perhaps I like things a little too black and white for the average taste, but I feel as though Plantinga is inadvertently accepting complacency in the Kingdom.

It seems as though Plantinga has gotten rather sloppy in his writing, taking less care to filter out dangerous phrases. I found it difficult to focus on the rest of his chapter simply because I was so distracted by his blatant labeling of others: "Let's call a person who accepts Jesus' commission a good citizen . . . let's call a person who accepts this commission with enthusiasm a prime citizen."

Something I did appreciate (when I wasn't grumbling and finding fault in everything Plantinga had to say) was his redeemable idea that vocation, job, or whatever term he used to discuss work done in some sort of occupation, was less about what you do, but rather how you do it. "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as if working for the Lord, and not for men." Christians are called to do whatever it takes to further God's Kingdom. There are no "good" or "prime" citizens; there are simply those who take up the calling and those who don't. A Christian is suited for every job, anywhere. Whether a CEO or a doctor, a writer or a trashman, they are fully equipped to do their work as joyfully as if it had always been their dream to be there. This enthusiasm comes only from the comfort of the idea that God can use anyone, anywhere, for His glory. I loved Professor Adriana's (was it Professor Paulo's?) reminder of Joseph; even if he wasn't in a position he wanted to be in (who does want to be a slave?), he work as if working for the Lord, resisting temptation, using his talents not for his own benefit, but for the benefit of others. Soon, God had him second only to Pharaoh, a Hebrew ruling the Egyptian people. What a shocking change! A rags to riches story made possible by God's strength and might and compassion.

"Slaves, obey your earthly masters in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord."

Love, In One Sense of the Word

Reading: The Four Loves (ch.5 Eros), C. S. Lewis

Listening to Lewis' lecture about the third of the four loves, Eros, was particularly interesting. Having read only his first two chapters on affection (Storge) and friendship (Philia), I found his chapter on sexual love very intriguing. While there are four kinds of loves, it seems to me that they intermingle quite a bit, making it difficult to differentiate between them.

In the context of Eros, however, Lewis had much to say.

I find it interesting and somewhat contradictory to popular belief that Lewis believes a man in the Eros sort of love thinks of a woman not very much as a woman, but rather as a person with whom they are delightedly interested. This particular woman, from what it sounds like, is a fascinating creature; a man loves her to be around her, to think of what she might say. Essentially, he loves her very much as a very interesting person before he even gives thought to her as a woman. In our society, it seems to be backwards, and not only backwards, but broken. Men and women alike fall rather hard "in love" in the sense that they are very attracted to each other in regards to appearance and sexual desire. They tend to look too far ahead, to skip the step in which they are simply fascinated with each other, when they want to learn about one another and talk and explore each other's childhoods, fears, thoughts, and more. But in this backwards way of doing things, the proper route is distorted, is essentially broken. Eventually, it is no longer possible to achieve the original route. It's like building a train track. If you skip a section of rail, the train won't be able to go on normally. It will be derailed, it will deviate and crash. It is very difficult indeed to make a relationship that starts out with Venus, rather than Eros, to continue in Eros.

It's tricky, though. It's hard to make assumptions about something I have never experienced myself. I think that what limited experience I have from past relationships are proof enough of how not to go about the whole business. What I've come to realize is that there are levels, sort of what Lewis explains in his lectures: The four loves, all intermingled, make for the most beautiful, healthy married relationship.

On one level, one's partner is one's friend. One is affectionate toward him or her in the sense that they are familiar, comforting, like an old pair of warm slippers. Also, though, is the level of trusted companionship; one's partner is one's confidante (I understand that the term "confidante" is always in reference to a woman. Learning something new every day, I suppose. But the concept, I believe, is the same). They are the one one looks forward to seeing, to talking to. Thirdly, Eros, the mutual fascination, attraction, and sexual partnership; One satisfies his or her partner, and his or her partner satisfies them. But the fourth, Agape, spins its thread through all of the loves. God's love, Christian love; it is the meaning of loving someone even when you don't agree, even when their habits bother you, even when both of you are completely drained of patience with the other. It is what allows you to pray for each other, not selfishly in order that God might change them to your ideals, but because their spiritual growth is as important as your own. It is as though you are not only in love with each other, but you are in love with God in one another.

And that is a love that is patient, kind, humble, forgiving, honest, protecting, trusting, hopeful, persevering; it is the love that never fails.

Unexpectedly Ordinary

Subtitle: [The Christ We Never Wanted, but Always Needed]

Reading: Engaging God's World (ch.4: Redemption), Plantinga

Plantinga's chapter on Redemption is quite a long read, but I suppose that makes sense, considering how much there is to discuss when the topic comes up. I hesitate to write on the entire chapter, since I am worried that I will start simply repeating what he says (if you read my last blog, you'd understand my worry; sickness certainly doesn't help my insight), but I shall pick a topic or two within the chapter to discuss.

This chapter seemed to cover all the basics without fail; I'm sure there was a detail here or there which might have been worded better, but overall, Plantinga explained things quite well. Skimming through it again, I found myself remembering Sunday School lessons, things I learned in my high school Bible class, even things I'd written on before. It was the message I struggled to explain to my friend, to show in my everyday life: a message of hope, the reason Christianity is my chosen religion.

There were pieces I especially liked, and at least one minor detail I disagreed with (thanks to my Theology class last semester, I still hold doubts about certain things). One of the things that was especially striking was the idea of death and resurrection with Christ. The way Plantinga puts it, each time you actively choose not to sin, every time you replace that act of sin with something else that is pleasing to God, you have put that particular sin to death, and risen again with the opposite action. "Take compassion as an example of dying and rising. A compassionate Christian feels distress at another's suffering and wants to relive it. His willingness to 'weep with those who weep' represents the death of scorn, and the death of aloofness."

Most of this chapter consisted of concepts I'd grown up with all my life. That doesn't mean, however, that I can easily cast it aside. It's a powerful reminder of the message Christians believe in, what we seek to share and understand. Who was this Christ who rescued us from death so long ago? What has he done for me now? What kind of person was he? How are we saved through him?

It's hard for me to imagine, sometimes, such a humbly divine, ordinary man. To me, he's so extraordinary that it's almost difficult not to see him with luxurious brown locks of shining hair, sparkling blue eyes, gleaming white teeth, tall, fit; the ideal Jesus is not the man we believe in. He contradicts all human expectations. Not just ours; he completely contradicted the expected image the Israelites had for him. They wanted a conquering king, a man "who could get Rome off their back and Caesar out of their hair." They wanted a man, not God, necessarily. I think maybe they'd gotten too chatty with the Greeks in their time, and had heard too many stories about heroes like Hercules.

And so it is a proper reminder, a reestablishing of the facts about who God is, how much He loves us, and what He sacrificed so that we could have a second chance, or a third, or fourth, and so on. He died so that we might die also, and He rose again, so that we might rise also, renewed in Him, and ready to live for His glory.

"The LORD is risen," they say.

He is risen, indeed!

A Lesson Learned

Reading: Learning in War-Time, C. S. Lewis

"If men had postponed the search for knowledge and beauty until they were secure, the search would never have begun." Lewis has a point, of course. His essay, addressed to the students who were not involved in the war, targeted the continuation of learning, of work, of living life through the small things, no matter what the circumstances. "The only people who achieve much are those who want knowledge so badly that they seek it while the conditions are still unfavourable. Favourable conditions never come," writes Lewis. His words, as with most of his writing, are deeply applicable to even a college student here at Calvin, sixty, seventy, eighty years later. It's powerful advice he gives. As a student in college, I am bound to find myself distracted by big events, in classes in which I dislike a professor, or my classmates. But Lewis advises, or rather, hints very strongly that a student truly yearning to learn will seek knowledge no matter what the conditions. After all, he says, "favourable conditions never come."

It is difficult, though. We have a tendency to make plans, to get distracted, to get caught up in big events, to want to do what we can for a cause. When we cannot do anything, however; when the excitement dies away, it melts into fear and frustration. In each state of passion, Lewis gives a few words of advice.

In excitement, he writes, do not neglect your work. The conditions, of course, are not in your favour; but, the question is, will they ever be?

We tend to make plans, and when those plans are not realized, frustration becomes a difficult emotion to control. Now, if anyone else has experienced life, they have noticed life's tendency to ruin plans. From a Christian perspective, Lewis points out that we ought to put our future in God's hands. "We may as well," Lewis writes sensibly, "for God will certainly retain it whether we leave it to Him or not." His warning is clear enough: do not commit your happiness to the future, but rather, keep in mind that, "happy work is best done by the man who takes his long-term plans somewhat lightly and works from moment to moment 'as to the Lord'."

In his final paragraph, Lewis brings forth a very interesting thought: "All the animal life in us, all schemes of happiness that centered in this world, were always doomed to a final frustration." When times are what we like to call "normal," that is, when we aren't in the middle of world wars and the like, a particularly wise person might be able to realize that happiness and the world do not coincide. "Foolish un-Christian hopes," Lewis calls them, these ideas that a sort of heaven might be built on earth. And yet, it seems that Lewis has a bit of a contradiction, a set of circumstances in which the Kingdom of God can be glimpsed on earth: "But," he writes, that funny little word that seems to negate whatever has been written before it. "If we thought that for some souls, and at some times, the life of learning, humbly offered to God, was, in its own small way, one of the appointed approaches to the Divine reality and the Divine beauty which we hope to enjoy hereafter...we can think so still."

Subjectivism and the Law of Human Nature

Reading: The Poison of Subjectivism, C. S. Lewis

Subjectivism. It's a dangerous thing, like Bulverism, or pride, or other such things. It's essentially the idea that everything in the world is subject to one's own reasoning. The way Lewis makes it sound brings a little humor into the equation: "Man has begun to study himself . . . Now, his own reason has become the object: it is as if we took out our eyes to look at them . . . His own logic, hitherto the king whom events in all possible worlds must obey, becomes merely subjective."

Subjectivism is a little difficult to grasp, but surprisingly easy to put into practice. After all, the way we perceive the world must be how it is, right? It is as though everything in the world was subjected to my logic. Then, my own mind was also subjected to my reason. Studying my reasoning by using my reason, however, means that anything I find is not trustworthy, since my mind is the subject. It's like relying on a chronic liar for the fact; essentially the facts are going to be subject to your reasoning.

Lewis brings this further on. In the light of our subjectivist nature, we are inclined to a certain sense of judgment of right and wrong. These universal values of right and wrong, argues Lewis, have been relatively unchanging throughout time, culture, and place. The values, which create the "Law of Human Nature," as he calls it, show up consistently throughout any religion in any culture. The essentials are the same. Every culture has a law of decency and respect in which the human life is usually sacred, the old are cared for, as are the young and weak, lying is never tolerated, and neither are oppression and treachery. Someone in class said something that sounded as though Christianity put all those values together into coherent words, but I disagree (although, admittedly, I may have misunderstood entirely). What I believe Christianity did was give a reason for the Law of Human Nature. It explained how God is, who and what He is, and gave us an explanation of our debt to Him, and the way we ought to live to glorify Him. And, to me, that makes sense.

Evil, Grace, and Good

Reading: Engaging God's World (ch.3: The Fall), Plantinga

As we may have already established from the first two chapters, Plantinga is all about shalom, the harmonious peace which was meant to occur with creation, and which is now much harder to see, much less achieve, after the fall. And it is the fall which Plantinga addresses in the third chapter of his book.

"Evil is what's wrong with the world," Plantinga states very plainly, then moving on to describe evil. "We might define evil as any spoiling of shalom, any deviation from the way God wants things to be." He describes sin as a sort of subset of evil.

The way I see it, evil is the distortion of good. I was very much impressed by Professor Paulo's use of electrical engineering in order to describe the way evil works. First, the source, which creates perfect waves. Then, as evil and sin have distorted God's good world, the waves are distorted. The only thing that fixes it is Jesus Christ, our filter. He takes away those distortions, making the wave good again. We have to keep going back to the filter, though, because our waves are easily distorted.

Something else that came up in class was the topic of Common Grace. To me, personally, it is very clear that God loves all and wants all to be saved through Christ. He also makes it very clear that not everyone will be saved. While grace is offered to all, not all will receive it. Perhaps some might find the idea strict, and others not strict enough. I don't know about any specific number of people who will be saved or have been saved, but I think the idea of limiting God's grace in and of itself is a little presumptuous.

Also, with the idea of the unsaved doctor doing good, I held my opinion in class because I was unsure of how to best explain my views. Now seems like an excellent opportunity to attempt to. While the doctor is gifted by God, and he is performing actions we consider to be "good," the doctor is not using his gifts to glorify God. Therefore, he is glorifying himself, in which case he is sinning. Now, this may sound harsh, but let me explain. God has the capability of using anyone's actions for His glorification. There is no question of that (and if there is, I recommend looking around every once in a while. There's proof of it everywhere). The question lies in the heart of the doctor. This makes it very difficult for us to judge whether or not what he does is good in God's eyes or not, since, as we all know, we cannot see into the heart of man. And I'm quite sure God made it that way purposefully, so that we might not judge, and in judging think too highly of ourselves, leading us once again to humility.

Back to the Basics?

Reading: Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis

Although Lewis uses his usual logic in discussing the topic of Christianity, the part found most agreeable in the first book was in the preface. He stated his intentions very clearly and deliberately, which allowed for the correct mindset to be cultivated before beginning the actual reading.

The rest of it is also clear; Lewis sought to bring us back to the logical basics of Christianity. Admittedly, I found this essay less clear than many of his other essays. Perhaps that was because I'd heard such mixed reviews on it, and was trying to see what brought such glowing reports, and, in turn, such scathing ones.

That, however, is unimportant. There were things that connected, things that made sense. I would view it more as an affirmation of many of the things I'd already begun to think about. It tied in so very closely to the things I'd been so carefully wording while speaking to a friend of mine. He cared nothing for my denominational beliefs, and I attempted to respect that. Later, however, I came to realize that it wasn't merely my Reformed background he detested so much, but rather my Christian beliefs altogether. I came to a point in which I had to disregard the denominational structure I had given to my faith and go back to the very essence of Christianity, "mere Christianity," if you will.

How, though, does one explain the logic behind Christianity? There is the Law of Human Nature, which Lewis describes as a sort of math applied to humans, allowing for variables and variety. This math states that all humans desire for others to behave in a conduct of decency and respect, a sort of "golden rule" which humans seem to expect of one another. Lewis does not quite approach the logic that applies such an expectation to a specific reference point (which, I assume, is God), and the reference is a Something or Someone which (or whom) is directing the universe. This Someone (which later in Mere Christianity, I assume, Lewis reveals to be God) "appeals in me as a law urging me to do right and making me feel responsible and uncomfortable when I do wrong."

(My apologies for the scattered thoughts. Perhaps some editing will occur later.)

The Apathetic Road to Hell

Reading: The Screwtape Letters (ch. 12), C. S. Lewis

"The Christians describe the Enemy as one 'without whom Nothing is strong.' And Nothing is very strong; strong enough to steal away a man's best years not in sweet sins, but in a dreary flickering of the mind..."

"Indeed, the safest road to Hell is the gradual one -- the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts."

One of the most dangerous things in the Christian life is apathy. Lewis so strikingly describes the attack on Christians, the emphasis placed so carefully on the control of the 'vague, though uneasy feeling that he hasn't been doing very well lately.' This is where the first quote takes precedence. An inactive, apathetic Christian wastes his life, spends it "in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, of in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish." The most frightening realization is that it starts with the one, tiny sin.

"But do remember, the only thing that matters is the extent to which you separate the man from the Enemy."

It sends chills down the spine, shivers of fear, not because it is inescapable, or because one cannot be rescued from it (for one can). Rather, it frightens because, if any of you are anything like me, we are already in danger. I know I waste much of my time away, tolerating sins, and eventually doing those sins. I have been rescued only because God hit me over the head with some books, His Word, and that nagging feeling that I'd been coasting. What I hadn't been paying attention to is what direction I'd been coasting in, and I think it's a little needless to say that it wasn't Heaven-bound.

And so it starts, here and now, beginning to be active in resisting the small sins as much as the big ones, taking joy in the fellowship and accountability that comes with a church community, finding refuge, peace, and guidance in the Scriptures, and, most importantly, humbling ourselves before the LORD, seeking nothing more than "effective contact" with our God.

Inexplicable Love

Subtitle: [God's Love Displayed in the Context of Creation]

Reading: Engaging God's World (ch.2: Creation), Plantinga

There's always been something extremely fascinating about nature and creation. It's not just the biology and chemistry of it all, or the mathematical logic behind it, or even the poetic and inspiring beauty of it. It's the vast mystery of it, the huge amounts of things we simply don't know about it, the phenomenons we can't explain.

Creation is as mysterious and unknowable as it's Creator. The most exciting part is how much it reflects the God who created it.

There are so many parts to creation and to the Creator that are essential. Creation was made for us. God is so full of goodness and so full of love that He created us to spend time with, to care for (we are His children), and to love. Then, He created the earth and the universe and everything in it to fascinate us, and to teach us about Himself. What a beautiful idea, what a lovely thing, how fascinatingly humbling!

And yet how silly we are to look at creation and disregard it, or worship it, rather than thinking of the Creator of it, and what He intended by it.

Each part of creation is unique and special and different from any other created thing. Not only is each species or type or kind different from the next, but even within such, each piece is individual. There is water. But there are oceans, lakes, rivers, streams, precipitation. Within that are large oceans and smaller oceans, long rivers, short rivers, different forms of falling water such as sleet, hail, rain. And there is snow, which falls differently everywhere it falls. In Grand Rapids, Michigan, on the campus of Calvin College, outside my dorm window, there are individual snowflakes. No tiny, minuscule snowflake is the same. God put loving care into every single tiny detail. God, as Andrew so brilliantly pointed out, does not mass produce. He painstakingly structured things so intricately, so delicately, so perfectly, that even we don't know the half of it. The best part of it? It was made for us. Why? Because for some inexplicable reason, no matter how often we miss the point, He loves us.

The Weight of Glory

Reading: The Weight of Glory, C. S. Lewis

It is incredibly difficult to limit oneself to a mere 300 words when discussing something as deep and compelling as Lewis' "The Weight of Glory." It's like being asked to narrow the application of it to college life: there are simply too many life lessons to be learned.

One of the most important themes, though, is humility. Perhaps I am not alone in my struggle wit this concept, but I have found myself challenged again and again with being humble. I am, as most humans are by nature, a very prideful being, always wanting to be acknowledged for my work and my struggle. As Lewis pointed out, however, my desire to be acknowledged is distorted--my true longing is to be acknowledged by God; in essence, I want God to know me, to acknowledge me, to call me His good and faithful servant. I want to know that this struggle is not in vain.

I must be careful, though, of my pride, not because I oughtn't have it, but because it absolutely must not be directed at myself. I may be proud in my work and my talents, but not because the are mine; rather, because they are God's, supported by Him, given by Him. It lies in accordance with Lewis' quote: "Perfect humility dispenses with modesty. If God is satisfied with the work, the work may be satisfied with itself." Notice it does not say 'I may be satisfied with myself.' It is not an easy task. "To please God...to be a real ingredient in the divine happiness...to be loved by God and not merely pitied, but delighted in as an artist delights in his work, or as a father in a son--it seems impossible, a weight or burden of glory which our thoughts can hardly sustain. But so it is."

How is such a thing achieved, though? How can we strive for God's approval? The answer is simple, yet infinitely and frustratingly complex. We have to think not of ourselves at all. We must forget entirely what we think we must do. We must strive instead to be humble, to do everything without complaint, joyfully, and when it is all done, when people try to give us the acknowledgment we so long for, we instead deny ourselves entirely and point to God. "'Nobody marks us,'" and that is the point. We are not to be marked, not to be acknowledged. In all things, we are nothing. We are lower than the low, we are the scum of the earth. We are no more qualified for the Kingdom than the people on this earth we most despise. "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves," Philippians says. "The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor's glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken" (Lewis).

And so, with humility and love, we must do everything we can for everyone we can, and when it is all said and done, as we lie there, humbly before God, aware of the ragged, dirty, disgusting clothes that we wear that are as filthy, if not filthier than our neighbor's, God will reach out and remove those rags and clothe us in new robes, and give us the highest accolade, the most satisfying acknowledgment we can ask for, which only He can give: "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Our English Syllabus

Reading: Our English Syllabus, C. S. Lewis

Perhaps Lewis' essay connects a tiny bit better because of my own personal college experience, but Lewis, in "Our English Syllabus," uses his usual clear thought process to explain several different concepts.

First, there is the pre-human and human concept. Lewis refers to the mast, or professor, as "already human," whereas he calls the pupil "a mere candidate for humanity." While this term is tricky, and somewhat offensive, it makes sense. It is not a question of extremes (and, of course, he doesn't literally mean "inhuman"), because Lewis is obviously not calling us students a bunch of barbarians. Quite the contrary: Lewis regards them as beings full of potential, seeking and being guided into knowledge in order to be able to properly function in society without naivety.

Secondly, there is the very idea of education. According to Lewis, we ought to go to college to seek knowledge, and only if we have a desire to. This, of course, is contrary to the mentality nowadays that high school students are expected to attend college as well. Lewis doesn't think this is enough, elsewise the years spent on such an "education" are wasted, because while the student flounders around, going to classes that mean nothing to him or her, nothing is achieved.

Finally, Lewis discusses learning as part of something bigger, a lifelong expedition. Of course, even if you are actively searching for knowledge, college-learning is limited. There is only so much one can learn during one's years at college, but there is infinitely more to learn, not only because of such a limited time slot, but simply because there are things that must be learned throughout life, things that can only be learned in time.

An Unsatisfiable Longing

Reading: Engaging God's World (ch. 1: Longing and Hope), Plantinga.

It is widely discussed among any society, the topic of this hole, this longing for something. In most, this longing is most evident when we are caught up in the magnificence of a piece of music, or a beautiful piece of scenery, and we cannot help but want to be a part of it; to simply not be anymore, and let it consume us, absorb us, receive us indefinably. Yet, despite it all, we are not satisfied.

"The truth is that nothing in this earth can finally satisfy us," writes Plantinga. He's right, of course. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes by Lewis (ironically enough): "If we have discovered a desire within us that nothing in this world can satisfy, also we should begin to wonder if, perhaps, we were created for another world." The indication is clear: we long for something and are unfulfilled because we long for something far greater than anything in this physical world. The Christian argument is that God is the only thing that can possibly fill such a hole.

It makes sense, then, to hope for that day in which our longing is fulfilled, and, in time, to hope for the peace that will conquer the restlessness of the nations.

I know I have woken up some mornings wanting to "break out crying from stabs of hopeless joy, or intolerable promises," and even simply because "those morning s were too full of beauty for me." But those days help me catch a glimpse of what God has prepared, allowed me a crack in the door that reveals that incomprehensible thing we like to call "heaven."

Right to Happiness: Check Yes or No

Reading: We Have No Right to Happiness, Lewis

The question is this: do we have a right to happiness? The problem with so simple a question, however, is that it can be approached from a number of directions, each coming up with a different response. One might question what happiness is, one might question what rights are. Someone else might ask whether we are asking from an American point of view, or a religious point of view. Still someone else might simply question C. S. Lewis' approach on the subject entirely.

I think, for the benefit of the audience that will read this, that it would be easiest to separate the question into two different approaches. There is the classic American viewpoint, and there is the spiritual, religious, or (more accurately), Christian viewpoint.

The American answer is rather simple. After all, it's stated in the Declaration of Independence: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness." America is traditionally called the Land of Opportunities, and it holds that we do have the right to happiness. This country was founded on the idea that any man, regardless of race, color, or creed, has the right to seize or create opportunities in order to attain the lifestyle we call the "American Dream." C. S. Lewis only limits such to "all lawful means," which is further described: "that is, by all means which the Law of Nature eternally sanctions and which the laws of the nation shall sanction."

And so America's answer is yes, we have the right to happiness.

It's bigger than that, though. While a society may be telling us that we reserve the right to achieve whatever circumstances will make us happy, we as Christians are used to another answer.

The Christian perspective comes from a full knowledge and understanding that the simplest form of existence is far ore than we could ever deserve. We have no right to live, much less to be happy. This isn't to say, of course, that we cannot be happy, or that we should deny ourselves happiness. Rather, God has uniquely structured things in such a way that we have the capability to be happy in the most deplorable of situations. This comes from a deep humility, and a full understanding that because God has canceled such a heavy debt that we owe (because of our own sinfulness), every mere breath of air is more than we could rightfully ask for.

And so, according to Christianity, we have no right to happiness, but because of God's grace, we have the gift to be happy at any time, in any situation.

Bulverism

Reading: Bulverism, Lewis

Bulverism. Though not an actual term, its concept is similar to a term used in philosophy: ad hominum. This is the term philosophers use to describe an attack on another person's character, rather than their argument. Bulverism, the term Lewis used, is the assumption that the other person is wrong, but rather than attacking the argument, they attempt to discredit it by attributing motives to the presenter.

In politics, Bulverism is the primary fallacy committed. The mentality is that it's not necessarily a bad idea, but he's presenting it, and he owns two SUVs and isn't environmentally friendly means that he must be presenting a bad idea. Unfortunately, the same goes for the opposing team, and so the argument is only won when one is able to point out more dirt on the other.

The situation is similar in the justice department. A man who has committed numerous other crimes in the past is much more likely to be charged with a crime than someone with no history. They say all are assumed innocent until proven guilty, but the fact is that its quite the opposite. Often, they are considered guilty throughout the investigation until there is enough evidence to prove otherwise.

It's a dangerous thing, Bulverism. It allows wiggle room, too much wiggle room than it ought. Even more dangerous is the fact that most of influential society falls into the practice, which, in turn, leads the rest of society in the same path. It is for this reason that Aristotle in his essay "the Cave" encourages philosophers, the enlightened minds, to take up positions of leadership in order to break the cycle. Lewis, in turn, seems to promote that we look beyond the Bulverist attacks and respect the proper philosophical means of debate.

Looking At, Looking Along

Reading: Meditation in a Toolshed, Lewis

In "Meditation in a Toolshed," Lewis differentiates between two different perspectives: looking at, and looking along. When one looks "at" something, he or she sees the components that make up the experience; simply put, one breaks it down to a science. On the other end, when one looks "along" an experience, he or she is actually emotionally involved in the experience, or has previously experienced such a thing, and is therefore able to understand what it "feels" like.

I feel as though there are two different groups in popular society which prefer one or the other of the perspectives. The educated world, the "intelligentsia," per say, tend to look at things, rather than along them. They find it difficult to subject themselves to experiences because they have a natural habit of trying to explain it, to break it down to a point at which the experience is no longer an experience, but rather a jumble of psychological, biological, and chemical coincidences.

The second group is made up of the artist, the emotionally driven, those who dive headfirst into life, love, danger. This group loves to be able to look along, loves to be able to say, "I've been there," and "I know how you feel." They give advice based on what they've been through, their experience, rather than what they've witnessed others experience.

There is, however, a third group. This is the group we sometimes unconsciously strain for, and, depending on the person, of course, sometimes achieve. This third group is balanced. One in this group might look at as many things as he or she can and decide, based on the observations made, whether or not to experience something. At the same time, however (because life is unpredictable, and we are not in complete control), some are inexplicably subjected to some experiences without realizing it, and in this third group, one has learned to step back and observe how they are experiencing something; basically, take a break from looking along, and look at. The third group has learned to balance looking at and looking along in order to fully understand and appreciate the experience. It is the third group that Lewis encourages us to be a part of.